


Hell and Silence

by kaleinope



Series: Neither Here Nor There [2]
Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Getting Back Together, Happy Ending, I promise, M/M, Saphael, The Gray Area universe, aromantic Raphael, mentions of malec
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-21 13:51:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7389523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaleinope/pseuds/kaleinope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Raphael crossed the room in easy strides.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Simon's tongue felt like lead as his ex-boyfriend approached the stage. What do you say to a person you've avoided for a full year? How do you react?</em>
  <br/>
  <em>“What are you doing here?” Simon asked. It probably wasn't the best thing he could've come up with, but he was grateful he'd gotten intelligible words out, at the very least.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>“Here to see your shitty band.”</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hell and Silence

**Author's Note:**

> This is a follow-up to my oneshot 'I'm for You'. I'm really sorry it took this long, heh  
> Again, this is set in 'The Gray Area' universe (a Malec fic I'm writing). You don't have to read that to be able to read this- however, certain things will make more sense if you do.  
> I hope you enjoy~

“ _Do you not love me?”_

“ _I don't... know.”_

* * *

 

The metal of the strings bit into his fingers, but it was a welcome feeling. As he slid his fingers along the fretboard, transitioning between chords, he felt the bass resonate through the amp he was sitting on top of. It vibrated in his hips. He smiled.

“Yo, Simon,” Eric addressed him, over the clatter of his knee knocking into his drum-set, “where's your girl?” he rubbed at his knee, cursed softly as he took a seat behind the drums.

“She's not coming today.” Simon replied.

“Why not? Is she whining about the band name _again_?” Eric complained, “I thought 'Lawn Chair Crisis' was great.”

“Mhm,” Simon said mildly. He slapped another chord, and this time, the vibration of it travelled right up his spine.

“Get off the amp, man.” Kirk walked past Simon and shoved at his head. Simon righted himself before he toppled off of said amp. Kirk regarded him with tired eyes and offered his joint as a kind of peace offering.

“No, thank you.” Simon declined.

“Suit yourself.” Kirk stuck the joint between his lips and inhaled deep; Simon watched the tip of it burn cherry red.

“You're going to smoke yourself hoarse.” Simon told him, waving a swirl of smoke away from his face. He slid down from the amp, and set his bass to the side gingerly. “ _Then_ who's going to be our shitty lead singer?”

“Uh huh. Who's that?” Kirk gestured vaguely in the direction of the club's entrance.

“I don't necessarily know everyone that sets foot-” Simon turned, and his words faltered. “Oh.”

The person who'd just walked in hovered near the door, as if they, themselves, weren't sure why they were there. The handsome features of their face were passive, and held no emotion. It was a face Simon hadn't seen for a long time.

“What...” Simon said under his breath. He considered running- turning around, walking straight out of the building's back entrance, waiting it out in the alley. As his mind raced over this idea, however, he was spotted.

Raphael crossed the room in easy strides.

Simon's tongue felt like lead as his ex-boyfriend approached the stage. What do you say to a person you've avoided for a full year? How do you _react_?

“What are you doing here?” Simon asked. It probably wasn't the best thing he could've come up with, but he was grateful he'd gotten intelligible words out, at the very least.

“Here to see your shitty band.”

“Well, the show's not starting for a while, so.” He started turning away. A hand gripped his arm, thin brown fingers curling into the sleeve of his jacket. Simon jerked his head back in Raphael's direction and frowned.

“ _What,_ Raphael?” He was ready to chew the other man out; he faltered when he saw Raphael's expression.

Raphael's eyebrows were drawn together, and his lips were pressed in a thin line. His eyes were downcast. He seemed...conflicted.

This was a very rare thing to see in Raphael.

“What?” Simon repeated, lowering his voice just slightly.

“I just need to talk to you,” Raphael hesitated, “please.”

Simon pushed his tongue into his cheek, contemplative. “Fine. Five minutes.”

The two of them moved towards the back of the bar. Simon pushed the fire door open, and lead Raphael into the alleyway outside.

“Okay, go ahead.”

“I miss you.” Raphael stated. He said it in the same tone as one might say 'gas prices are rising' or 'I left the oven on' or 'the _Phantom Menace_ was a disappointment'. It wasn't very convincing.

“Yeah. You know what, Raphael- somehow I don't believe that.”

Raphael's mouth twitched into a grimace, “Why-”

“' _Why_ '? Are you _serious_?” Simon, trying hard not to feel like a child throwing a tantrum, crossed his arms over his chest and huffed. “I told you I  _loved you_ , Raphael. And how did you respond? You just, you just,” Simon shrugged his shoulders in an exaggerated gesture. “You _just_.”

“I...'just'?” Raphael looked very confused. Simon did not blame him.

“Yes.”

Raphael sighed and shifted from foot to foot. He glanced to the side, frowning, like he was thinking of what to say.

“Simon. You need to understand that it's not easy for me to grasp the whole...'romance', concept. I had- _have_ \- strong feelings for you. I thought they were purely sexual, but in retrospect, I suppose...”

“And you're telling me this now.”

“I am.”

“After a year of us not speaking to each other- of avoiding each other completely- you tell me this _now_?”

Raphael regarded him, bemused. “I...didn't realize there was a deadline to this kind of thing.”

With an oddly bitter taste in his mouth, Simon pushed Raphael away. “Jesus.” he swore under his breath and shook his head. “Just...don't.”

He went back inside, and slammed the door shut.

Raphael did not follow him.

* * *

 

Simon tried to forget about the incident, he really did.

But weeks later, he found himself going through a year's worth of old texts, just reading them. He couldn't shake Raphael from his mind.

And that was terrible, because, well, he was on vacation with his girlfriend at a freaking _lake-house_ and he was supposed to be enjoying his time with her. Instead, he was reading texts from his previous relationship, to-- what? What was he trying to accomplish?

Simon exhaled and ran his thumb over the phone's screen, contemplative. He was going through a message thread from July of the previous year.

 

**Can I come over?**

_**No one's stopping you, Simon** _

**I just kinda miss you**

**also**

**i'm bored**

_**not sure I'll be very entertaining company, but sure** _

 

Their texts didn't really deviate from that pattern: Simon asking to come over, Raphael more or less agreeing to it. Apart from the very rare sext, their phone conversations weren't very scintillating.

So why was Simon's chest hurting so much, as he read them?

Maybe it was the guilt.

He erased every single message.

* * *

 

He hadn't been here in ages.

Simon wasn't a huge fan of clubs; the flashing lights and pulsing music all tended to get a bit dizzying. Not that this was a club, per se. Not really. More like Magnus's apartment- but if he slugged down one more drink, his hazy mind wouldn't know any better.

He turned to the person next to him.

“How does he do it?” Simon's voice was just slightly slurred, “All this.” he gestured around the apartment-turned-temporary-club. “These...parties.”

“I. I don't really know.” The person's shoulders were hunched forward as he gripped his drink- a simple beer- and his elbows were resting on his knees. He looked incredibly uncomfortable. “I've learned not to question Magnus.”

“It's amazing,” Simon enthused, “magical, even.”

A smile tugged at Alec's lips, to which he raised his beer, “Yeah.”

“You don't like them. The parties.” Simon pointed out.

“Er, I guess.” Alec shrugged, “I mean... I don't mind too much. He enjoys them.”

“You're so lucky you've got an amazing boyfriend. It's great. So great.” Simon slumped further into the couch. “I'm relieved you two got back together.”

“So am I.”

“A boyfriend. You're lucky.” he mumbled into his drink. He was repeating himself a lot.

“You have a girlfriend,” Alec stated.

“Yes,” Simon nodded, a slow bob of the head, “I do.”

Alec sighed and patted his shoulder, and got up from the couch. “I'm going to go find Magnus. See you.”

“Oh. Bye.” Simon watched Alec weave through the crowd, doing his damned best not to get jostled by too many people. It was an admirable effort- but Alec still had to shake off a persistent girl yanking at his arm with a forced, polite smile. Simon laughed to himself. Alec disappeared from his line of sight.

Simon closed his eyes and tried to lose himself in the pounding, repetitive bass of the music. As he did this, a mostly unwelcome image surfaced in his mind; how he used to come to these parties with Raphael, and how they'd never dance.

He opened his eyes and stood up (a little too fast; his vision blurred for a second, and he staggered). He was going to dance. He didn't care how it looked, dancing alone- he just wanted to do it. He wanted to have fun.

Simon soon found himself in the nearest throng of people, and he started to move to the music. His movements were surprisingly easy, like he was mirroring the people around him and letting the music go through him. He laughed; the sound was lost.

It wasn't long until he felt hands slide around his waist, and pull him back against a solid body. His mind hazy, Simon leaned into the stranger's body without much thought. Unfamiliar lips ghosted along his neck. Strong hips rolled against his ass.

Simon turned his head a fraction, to get a glimpse of the person. All he could really make out was a mess of badly-dyed red hair. He wanted to run his fingers through it.

He reached up with a hand-

there was a jolt, the faint sound of a struggle, and someone swearing. Simon blinked slowly and turned around; his dance partner was on the floor, clutching a purpling nose.

“Ouch. Bummer.” Simon mumbled, leaning over to help the other up. He didn't get the chance- someone grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked him off the dance floor.

“Hey!” Simon complained, struggling against the grip. He twisted around and came face-to-face with a fuming Raphael.

“Hey,” Simon said, again, a little breathless now.

“What are you doing?” Raphael demanded.

“Dancing.”

“I saw that.” he was scowling. “How much have you had to drink?”

“I'm not really sure.” Simon thought about it. “A lot?” he said. “Why'd you punch that guy? Were you jealous?”

Raphael clicked his tongue, “ _¡_ _Vete_ _al infierno!_ ” he muttered viscously.

“Is that a yes?”

“Come with me.”

Raphael lead him away from the people and up a set of stairs- it was all a bit of a blur, really, and Simon wasn't sure where they were going. He was focusing on his own feet and trying not to trip. Before he knew it, they were in a bedroom and everything was a lot quieter. Simon glanced around; it was a very _colorful_ bedroom.

“Is this...Magnus's room?” he mumbled. “S'nice.”

“Why were you letting some stranger grope you?” Raphael asked, in a dangerously low tone. So, Simon realized, he was in trouble. Which was ridiculous. Just ridiculous. He felt the urge to laugh again.

“You _are_ jealous.”

“Simon, that's not the point here.” Raphael sounded exasperated. “You shouldn't-”

“You're not allowed to tell me what I should and shouldn't do. Not anymore,” Simon moved closer to him, to jab a finger into his chest, “that privilege was revoked when you broke us up.”

“ _I_ broke us up?” Raphael rolled his eyes, “ _You_ walked out on _me._ ”

“Because I was humiliated!” Simon's voice hitched, suddenly. He blinked rapidly; his vision was blurring. “You didn't love me. How do you think that feels?”

“Simon, I _can't-”_ Raphael swallowed. “I've never _loved_ a person. But you're-” he shook his head. “I already explained this to you.”

Simon gripped at Raphael's shirt- stared at his own fingers as they clutched at the material. His mouth felt dry.

“I just need to hear you say 'I love you', Raphael. That's all I ever wanted from you.”  
“ _Dios mio_ ,” He could hear the frown in Raphael's voice, “Simon...”

“Please.”

“Fine,” Raphael inhaled. There was a pause that seemed to go on forever. Then: “I love you.”

“Thank you.” Simon raised his head and closed the gap between them.

The kiss was very warm, and familiar. It was something Simon didn't know he'd missed. He curled his fingers into Raphael's hair, as if to prevent him from pulling away, to anchor him to the kiss. He heard Raphael suck in a breath and shift closer, wrapping his arms around Simon's back. He pressed his palm into the small of Simon's back; encouraged by the touch, Simon leaned into him. Raphael bit his lower lip. Oh. Simon had missed that, too. The biting.

Simon moved his hands down and fumbled impatiently with Raphael's belt. They had too much clothing on; Simon wanted skin-on-skin contact, needed it, was craving the heat of it- a burning heat he hadn't felt in so long-

“You should go home.” Raphael pulled away, rather forcefully. Simon stared ahead of him, dazed. Raphael was already halfway out the room.

“Wait-”

“You'll just regret it in the morning.” Raphael said. Part of Simon realized he was right. “So go home.”

“But-” he faltered. Raphael had already left, and Simon was starting to feel dizzy, and sick. Really, incredibly, sick. He resolved to find the nearest bathroom, and fast.

The door swung open before he could reach it.

“Simon?” It was Alec. He frowned at Simon, clearly confused. Magnus was behind him- his expression was impassive, save for a raised eyebrow.

“What are you doing in here?” Alec asked.

Simon opened his mouth, closed it again. He was at a loss.

He threw up on the shaggy purple carpet.

 

* * *

 

Simon retched violently, bent double over the toilet bowl. An acidic taste burnt in his mouth, his stomach churned. His knees were aching from pressing too hard into the tiled floor.

“Goddamit,” he groaned.

He pressed his forehead against cold porcelain and closed his eyes. He couldn't remember much of the previous night- but he did recall most of the disaster that was his encounter with Raphael. He also remembered ruining Magnus's (probably designer) carpet, and that Alec had still been kind enough to drive him home afterwards. Simon decided he'd have to send them a muffin basket or something equally nice.

“Simon?” the bathroom door creaked open, and his sister's worried voice bounced off the tiled walls. It was loud. It hurt Simon's head.

“Becks, I'm fine,” Simon managed to say, “don't- don't worry.”

“Are you sick?” There was a light touch on his back. Rebecca was rubbing circles between his shoulder blades.

Simon swallowed, hard, “Hungover.”

“Oh, you idiot.” Rebecca's gentle touch turned into a disapproving slap. “You _know y_ ou can't hold your liquor.”

“Meurgh,” Simon made a noise in agreement.

“Did you do anything stupid?”

“Yeah,” he sat back on his heels. He ran his fingers through his tangled, sweaty hair and looked up at Rebecca. “Kissed my ex.”

“Shit...” Rebecca's eyebrows furrowed. “What about Isabelle?”

“I have to tell her,” Simon said, instantly. He'd come to the conclusion hours ago. “I can't just keep something like this from her. That'll just...ruin everything.”

“She's not going to be happy.” Rebecca sighed. She rubbed at her neck and stepped back, “I'm going to get you some aspirin. Sit tight, buddy.”

“Thanks...” Simon watched Rebecca leave the bathroom. He sighed and leaned against the side of the tub, stretched his legs out in front of him.

He was miserable. His mouth was dry, his head was throbbing- and he deserved it, because he was an absolute idiot.

“They're going to have to install an eighth circle in hell just for me, I swear.”

* * *

 

“Izzy, I love you.”  
“I know.”

Simon exhaled slowly. Isabelle quoting Star Wars at him wasn't making things any easier. He dug his fingers into his knees and sat up straighter, steeling himself.

“I did something stupid.”

Isabelle turned a page in her book, “How stupid are we talking?”

“You know how I, uh, went to Magnus's party a couple of nights ago?”

“Oh, yeah. How was it?” she glanced up at him.

“I got drunk and made out with Raphael.” he said, the words a little too rushed. He bit into the inside of his cheek, afterwards, and waited for Isabelle's reaction.

Isabelle's posture had gone rigid, but her expression was blank. “Is that...all?”

Simon hesitated, “It almost went further, but he stopped me. And...”

“And?” Isabelle's grip on her book was starting to tighten.

“I asked him to tell me he loves me.”

“You...” Isabelle closed her book and took a deep breath. “Oh.”

A silence fell between the two of them, one that was uncomfortably long. Simon was chewing the inside of his cheek raw. Isabelle was staring at the wall opposite.

“You're angry,” Simon tried, after a minute or so, “I understand.”

“Yeah, um,” she rubbed at her eyes. Her hands were trembling. “I need to...I just need to process this.”

Simon shifted forward to take her hand in his, out of reflex- and stopped himself. He lowered his hand. “Okay.”

“I need you to leave,” Isabelle said, “please.”

“Okay,” he repeated. The word was a lot more difficult to get out, the second time.

He left.

* * *

 

Isabelle didn't speak to him for three weeks.

Simon was getting increasingly anxious; what was he supposed to do? Was he supposed to maintain the radio silence, or was he meant to break it with a text, or a call- or literally anything? He respected that she needed her space, but...

But he didn't want it to end like this. Isabelle deserved better.

* * *

 

During those weeks, he experienced many a sleepless night.

* * *

 

She texted him at the end of the third week, and told him to meet her at Taki's.

* * *

 

Simon's coffee was getting cold. He gripped the mug a little tighter. Across the table, Isabelle was spearing all the tomatoes in her salad onto a fork.

“Iz,” Simon spoke up, eventually.

“I'm not- I can't-” she dropped her fork. It clattered against the rim of the bowl, “I can't pretend everything's normal.”

“So don't.”

“I thought I'd try, but.” Isabelle shrugged helplessly. “It's not working.”

He tapped his index finger against his mug, and swallowed before speaking, “I'm guessing we're over, then.”

“Yeah,” she shook her head, “but that sounds so _harsh._ God.” she ran her hands over her face. “I didn't want this to end badly.”

“Neither did I,” he said, “I really do love you, you know.”

“No, you don't. Not that way.”

Simon frowned and opened his mouth to disagree. Isabelle didn't give him the chance.

“Simon, I don't think you're actually in love with me.” she said, “You're clearly still hung up on him.”

“Izzy...”

“I get it. It isn't easy to fall _out_ of love with someone,” her smile was sad, “That's just human nature.

“I mean, I'm not excusing the fact that you _cheated_ on me,” Isabelle went on, “because that's never right. It's a dick move, whichever way you look at it.”

“Yeah,” Simon agreed, albeit uncomfortably.

“But, well, I kind of understand. And I really still want to be friends with you.”

“Friends. I- yeah, me too.” he was in awe. It was like she'd come to all the revelations that he'd needed, the ones that were just outside of his own reach. “I want to be friends, too.”

“Good.”

“You can slap me, if you want? Or, um, punch me. I deserve it.”

Isabelle scoffed and waved a hand dismissively, “Too cliché. So I'll pass, but thanks.”

“You sure?” Simon was smiling, despite it all. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime offer, you know.”

“I'm sure.” Isabelle said, “Now, go.”

“Huh?”

“Go. Tell him how you feel.”

* * *

 

By no stretch of the imagination, did Simon think what he was about to do would be easy.

He'd already turned Raphael down, and now- what? He'd changed his mind? He was here to beg Raphael to date him again? How was that ever going to be good enough?

But he'd told his logic to screw itself- because he wasn't going to lose anything from trying.

He knocked at the hotel room's door.

It was pulled open a minute later.

“Simon,” Raphael regarded him, surprisingly calm. “Are you sober today?” the question was laced with bitterness.

“Raphael, I came here to apologise. I've been a real idiot.” Simon wasn't about to beat around the bush.

“That's news to me.”

“Okay- first, you know your sarcasm can't hurt me.” Simon said, “Second, I'm trying to be sincere, here, and you're not making it easy.”

“Why should I make it easy?” Raphael argued.

“I know you're bitter about how I ended things between us, and how I still...turned you down,” Simon hesitated, “the truth is, I was heartbroken. I didn't want to see your side of things. I didn't want to listen to your reasoning- reasoning which I guess I should've tried harder to understand. It's just, when you showed up out of the blue, I didn't know how to handle it. It was painful.

“But I love you. And I've missed you. So, if you're still willing...” he pulled a face, “I'm sorry, Raphael. I'm bad at this. I- I've never tried to get someone back, before.”

Raphael stared at him, then sighed in defeat. “It's fine. I'm no good at it, either.”

Simon's eyebrows lifted, “Are you-”

“I'm sorry I put you through so much grief. I'm not a good partner, by any definition.” Raphael shrugged, “Honestly, I'm pleasantly surprised that you still want me.”

“Do _you_ still want _me_?” Simon had to ask.

“What do you think?”

Simon's heart was in his throat. He tried hard not to choke on his next words.“And did you mean it- when you said you love me?”

“I'm trying my best, Simon.”

Simon nodded in reply. It was good enough for him, for the moment.

“Fixing this mess of a relationship isn't going to be easy.” Raphael crossed his arms. “Are you willing to try?”

“I think I might like to try anything, for you.” Simon said.

Raphael didn't miss a beat. “Would you, now?”

Simon grinned. Raphael rolled his eyes and pulled Simon in by the front of his shirt.

“Get in here.”

* * *

 

They saw each other every day, after that.

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> _To be continued._


End file.
